Tisn't The Season (But Tis With You)
by 221blackandwhitestripes
Summary: Christmas time is almost upon them, but John doesn't have any idea what to get Sherlock for Christmas!


John furrowed his brow, the end of his pen tapping against his lip as he scrutinised the paper before him.

"Oh, hello, John." Mum greeted as she walked into the room, smiling at her son. "What have you got there?"

"My Christmas gift list." John replied matter-of-factly, still looking over it.

"Ooh, can I see?" Mum asked with a grin, her hand creeping towards the paper.

"No, mum!" John told her indignantly. "Your gift is on there too!"

"Okay, John." Mum laughed, shaking her head at him. "So, what's puzzling you?"

"I can't decide what to get Sherlock." John answered sadly. "He just has so many things and I want my gift to be special!"

"Well, why don't you ask him?" Mum suggested.

"No, mum, I can't do that! It's cheating!" John exclaimed, staring wide-eyed at mum with shock.

"Okay." Mum paused as if thinking it over in her head. "Well, how about you ask without asking?"

"Huh?" John asked confusedly. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that you should ask him what he likes, or if there's anything he has ever wanted but been unable to get." Mum explained simply.

"Oh." John thought for a moment. "Yes, I think that would work. Can I go see him now?" He asked with his best puppy-eyes.

"Of course, sweetie." Mum laughed, brushing the hair from her son's forehead. "Just be back in time for tea. And make sure you bring a coat, it's very cold outside."

"Yes, mum." John agreed, already racing to the cupboard to fetch his coat before exiting the room and racing downstairs. He pulled on his yellow gumboots and fastened the buttons to his coat before calling "Bye, mum." and opening the door. He ran down the street, his legs flying out behind him as he went as fast as he could.

Seeing the Holmes' family house, he ran up to the door before knocking on it twice and waiting expectantly.

"Hello… Oh. John." Mrs Holmes peered down at him in confusion. "What are you doing here?"

"I was wondering if it'd be alright if I could see Sherlock, Mrs Holmes." John asked politely, looking up at her.

"Well, of course. He's playing outback."

"Okay!" John exclaimed excitedly, racing around the front of the house before stopping and opening the side gate. When he walked along the gravel path, he found Sherlock sitting on his back doorstep, staring at his gum booted-feet dismally.

"What's wrong, Sherlock? Your mum told me you were playing." John tilted his head at him in confusion. Sherlock just shook his head, still not looking up. "Are you okay? Why are you so sad?" John didn't like seeing Sherlock so sad. He wanted to hug him and make it all better.

"I'm sad because I hate the winter." Sherlock moaned, kicking his leg out at a loose pebble. "It's cold and it's wet. I want it to be spring already! I've been waiting for _so_ long."

"Why do you like spring, Sherlock?" John asked curiously. "Christmas is in winter. And so's your birthday!"

"I miss the flowers!" Sherlock wailed, looking up finally.

"Flowers?" John wrinkled his nose confusedly. "Why do you miss the flowers?"

"Flowers are pretty and they smell nice and bees use their nectar to make honey. Lot's of honey is made in spring. Bees don't make _any_ honey in the winter." Sherlock explained sadly.

"Oh. That is sad. I wish you had some flowers, Sherlock." John told him. Sherlock nodded.

"Me too." Sherlock agreed. He looked up at John, his face curious. "John? Why do you like Winter so much?"

"I like staying warm by the fireplace, cooking smores on the fire. Ooh, ooh, and I like warm, fuzzy blankets. Oh! And I like snow!" John cried excitedly.

"Snow?" Sherlock asked. "Even though it get's you all cold and wet and dirty?"

"Yes! Because I can make snowmen and snow angels and we can have snow fights!"

"You're right! Snow is fun." Sherlock agreed with a smile.

"Yeah!" John smile fell, his shoulders deflating. "But my mum says that we won't get any snow this year."

"No!" Sherlock exclaimed in horror. "Why no snow?"

"I dunno, mum keeps saying something about all the globes heating up. Maybe they caught fire?" John suggested, shrugging his shoulders. "All I know is that we won't get ay snow in this part of England."

"That's sad." Sherlock murmured. John nodded his head in agreement.

"Boys!" A voice called, their two heads lifting up. "I've just made some sugar cookies, they're waiting on the table for you. They're still hot, so don't burn yourselves!"

"Ooh, goody!"John exclaimed, grabbing Sherlock hand and pulling him up. They raced through the house together, pushing past Sherlock's older brother, Mycroft, who shouted at them indignantly.

"Oh, there you are." Mrs Holmes brushed her dark hair away from her face. "They're right here. "Don't burn yourselves!"

"Yes, mummy!" Sherlock chimed, taking two and handing one of them to John. John nibbled at it cautiously, not wanting to burn his tongue before turning and watching Sherlock take a huge bite and immediately spit it out. "Ouch!" He exclaimed, fanning his tongue with his hand.

"I told you not to burn yourself." Mrs Holmes said with a sigh, turning and taking the milk out of the fridge before pouring a glass and handing it to Sherlock. He gulped it down quickly, wiping the tiny moustache from his upper lip as he let out a long sigh.

"Thanks, mummy." Sherlock said, smiling up at her

"Your welcome, dear." She said with a smile and a shake of her head.

 _Knock, knock, knock._

John rocked back in forth in his gumboots, waiting for the door to open. Finally, it did, revealing a very excited looking Sherlock.

"John!" Sherlock exclaimed, wrapping him in a hug immediately.

"Hi, Sherlock!" John replied, squeezing Sherlock tightly.

"John, you got here just in time. We were just picking our Christmas movie and I need you to be the tiebreaker for Hook." Sherlock exclaimed, tugging John inside.

"That's not a Christmas movie." John said, his brow furrowing in confusion as he shifter his small backpack on his shoulders.

"Well, I know _that_ , but it has _pirates_ and it's the only pirate movie that Mummy says I'm allowed to watch." Sherlock explained.

"Okay." John nodded in understanding.

"Cool."

"John?" The whisper broke the silence of the night. John curled away from the voice, cuddling himself in the blankets in an attempt to evade awaking. "John!"

"Mmymphh." John moaned, burying himself deeper.

"John!" Sherlock's lips were right against his ear, his long curls tickling the side of John's face.

"What is it." John groaned, at last, allowing his eyes to open in the darkness. He felt Sherlock lay back down beside him, his front curled against John's back.

"I was just wondering…" There was a long pause as if Sherlock was nervous about what he had to say. "Do you think Father Christmas is real?"

"I dunno." John answered. He didn't, really, but if Sherlock still believed, then John wasn't about to say anything. "Do you?"

"Not really." Sherlock sighed. "But this year I asked Santa if he could make sure that you really like the present I got you. Just in case." Sherlock shrugged, his shoulder moving against John's back. John smiled, looking over his shoulder at Sherlock.

"Don't worry. Whether or not Santa's real, I'll still like the present as long as it's from you." John assured him, nudging Sherlock with his shoulder.

"Promise?" Sherlock asked unsurely.

"Promise."

"John John John John John John John John." Sherlock was chanting, jumping up and down behind John on the bed.

"Noooooo." John moaned, voice muffled from the pillow his face was smooshed in.

"C'mon, John." Sherlock said, continuing to jump and accidentally landing on John's hand where it was splayed out on the pillow.

"OW! Sherlock!" John groaned, cupping his hand against his chest as he finally sat up.

"Sorry, John." Sherlock apologised, kneeling down on the mattress. He took John's hand, placing a soft kiss on the palm. "There. Is it better now?"

"Yep." John nodded. "So, how early is it?"

"Five-thirty." Sherlock admitted guiltily.

"Sherlock!" John complained indignantly.

"Sorry, John. I just couldn't wait any longer." Sherlock said with a shrug. John sighed.

"Okay. What do you want to do until my mum gets here?" John asked, his fingers curling beneath his thighs to keep them warm.

"We should build a fort!" Sherlock announced excitedly.

"Are you sure? Won't your mum mind?" John asked, not quite sure about the idea.

"Of course not!" Sherlock exclaimed. "She lets me build forts all the time! C'mon lets go get the sheets."

John followed Sherlock out of the bedroom, down the hall, until they reached a little cupboard. Sherlock pulled open the door, swaying a little when it took more energy than he'd obviously expected.

"Where are the sheets?" John asked, curiously, looking around at the shelves.

"On the top shelf." Sherlock answered. "Can I stand on your shoulders? You're heavier than me."

"Fine." John sighed, kneeling down. He felt Sherlock's weight as it settled on his shoulders, Sherlock wobbling a bit as he reached out.

"Higher, John." Sherlock whined, his arms stretched up high as he tried to reach the sheets. John huffed, pushing off with his legs until he's standing up too.

"Be careful, Sherlock." John warned, steadying Sherlock's legs as they wobbled.

"I am!" John told him indignantly. "Aha! Gotcha!" Sherlock announced, body bouncing with excitement.

"Sherlock!" John hissed, reaching out to lean against the open door in hope of steadying himself. Instead, the door gave way, John swaying over with it. John tumbled to the ground, Sherlock falling down with him with a yelp. "Ouch!" John complained, rubbing his elbow.

"What on Earth is going on?" The harried voice of Mrs Holmes asked as she rushed into view.

"We were getting sheets for the fort." Sherlock explained.

"A fort? At this hour? William Sherlock Scott Holmes, do you have any idea what time it is?" Mrs Holmes asked, hands resting on her hips.

"Sorry, mummy." Sherlock mumbled petulantly.

"That's alright, Sherlock." Mrs Holmes sighed. "So, what made this seem like a good idea?"

"I couldn't wait. The morning was just taking _so_ long to get here."

Mrs Holmes shook her head at her boy. "You are a funny one."

"I think Sherlock's funny too." John piped in, turning and poking Sherlock in the stomach, smiling when Sherlock let out a high-pitched squeal.

"Okay, you two. Do you need any more help, or are you fine on your own?" Mrs Holmes asked.

"We're fine, mummy." Sherlock scoffed, rolling his eyes at his mother, a habit John had noticed Sherlock picked up only recently. He suspected the true cause was Mycroft.

"Okay…" Mrs Holmes ventured. "John, I trust you to be the responsible one." She instructed sternly. John nodded quickly, standing up straight to appear as responsible as he could. "Alright. I'm going to bed." Mrs Holmes turned and walked back down the hall, shutting the door to her bedroom after her.

Once she'd disappeared out of sight, Sherlock turned to John. "How come _you're_ always the responsible one?" He asked, sticking out his bottom lip.

"Because _I'm_ responsible." John explained, placing a hand on his chest.

"And I'm not?" Sherlock accused.

"Exactly." John confirmed with a grin. Sherlock's bottom lip stuck out even further, his eyes trailing to the ground. "Don't worry. I might be the responsible one, but that means you can be the smart one."

"Oh. Okay." Sherlock smiled, seemingly cheered up. John looked around at the pile of sheets and blankets that had fallen with them.

"I think we have enough. What do you think, smart one?" John asked, cocking his head.

"I agree, responsible one." Sherlock nodded firmly. "Let's go put them in the lounge." They each grabbed an enormous pile of sheets and blankets, staggering slightly with the weight.

"C'mon." Sherlock directed, leading the way through the hall, down the stairs and into the lounge. They dumped the respective piles onto the floor, sighing in relief. "Okay, I'll get the kitchen chairs, you move the ones in here."

"Okay." John nodded, going to work. He pushed the armchair towards the couch, leaving spaces for where the kitchen chairs would go. Sherlock brought them in one by one, plonking them down in front of John before turning to go get the next one. Eventually, all of them were set up in a rectangular formation and they began to throw the sheets overtop to become the roof. Sherlock searched and found a basket of pegs, presenting them to John with a smile. They worked together to pin down all the sheets and blankets, making the walls and roof of their fort as secure as possible.

"Done!" John finally announced, turning to smile brightly at Sherlock.

"Yay! What should we call it?" Sherlock prompted.

"Well, it has to be something Christmassy." John decided.

"And Pirate-y!" Sherlock insisted.

"Oh! I know!" John exclaimed. "The Merry Roger."

"Instead of The Jolly Roger?"

"Exactly!" John exclaimed, really excited now.

"Okay!" Sherlock agreed, smiling too.

Having decided on a name, the two crawled inside The Merry Roger, sitting on the pile of cushions they'd pushed inside. They sat there, side by side, huddled together.

"We should build forts every time you come over!" Sherlock announced, looking around the interior of _The Merry Roger_ with wide eyes.

"Okay." John smiled.

"Ooh, John." Sherlock pushed a picture book onto John's lap. "I brought this in. Will you read it to me?"

John looked at the cover, smiling at the picture of a troll creature and a boat.

"Where the wild things are." John read with a grin. Sherlock smiled brightly, settling down against John's side. John continued to read aloud dutifully. It was only when he was almost at the end that he noticed that Sherlock was asleep. John smiled softly, closing the book before settling down too and curling around Sherlock. He hugged him tightly to his chest before he too slowly drifted off to sleep.

"Hello! John? Sherlock? It's time to wake up."

John blinked his eyes open, unsure exactly where he was.

"Come on, you two. The sun is up, time to have breakfast." The voice called happily.

"Aaargh." Sherlock groaned against his side, turning to nuzzle his nose into John's neck. "Don't wanna get up."

"But, Sherlock, you'll miss all the presents!"

"Presents!" Sherlock bounced up like a jack in the box, pulling John up with him. "John, John, John, it's Christmas morning!" He cried excitedly.

"I know, Sherlock." John rolled his eyes, but couldn't stop a grin from creeping onto his face. He rubbed his eyes, looking up at the smiling face of Mrs Holmes.

"Hey, John. Your parents will be here soon. In the meantime, would you two like some cocoa puffs?" Mrs Holmes asked.

"Yes please!" He and Sherlock chorused. Mrs Holmes lead them into the kitchen, making them their breakfast while they watched. They were three-quarters of the way in when there came a cheery knock at the door.

"Oh, that'll be your parents, John." Mrs Holmes announced, moving out of the room to let them in. John listened to the chorus of 'hello's as Mrs Holmes took his mum and dad's coats.

"Psst," Sherlock hissed at him. "What do you think your mum and dad got you for Christmas?"

"I dunno." John shrugged. "But hopefully it's something that we can do together!"

"That sounds like fun." Sherlock smiled happily.

"Hello, boys!" Dad greeted as he walked in.

"Hi, dad!" John waved, swinging on the big breakfast bar swivel chair.

"Hello, Mr Watson." Sherlock waved as well.

"Did you enjoy your sleepover?" Mum asked.

"Yes!" John exclaimed happily. "And this morning, we built a fort!"

"Really?" Mum gasped. "Would you like to show me?"

"Okay!" John jumped down from his chair, abandoning his cocoa puffs. He beckoned Sherlock to follow him before taking mum's hand and leading her down the hall to the lounge.

"Ta-da!" He presented the fort proudly. "It was Sherlock's idea. Sherlock's good at ideas." He said firmly.

"John helped me get all the blankets and stuff!" Sherlock piped up.

"That's lovely." Mum gushed.

"Sherlock," Mrs Holmes interrupted. "I'm going to wake your brother up, and then we can do presents.

"Yay, presents!" Sherlock jumped up and down with excitement.

"Oh! Your present is in my backpack, Sherlock. I'll go get it." John raced up the stairs to Sherlock's bedroom, snatching up his backpack before racing back down the stairs.

"Careful, John." Mum called, but she had no reason to worry.

Mrs Holmes reappeared with Mycroft in tow. He was scowling at the light and rubbing his eye with the heel of his hand. He didn't appear to be as excited about presents as he should be.

"Don't worry, Mycroft, Sherlock told me about your present and you'll definitely like it!" John assured him. Mycroft rolled his eyes but he looked a lot less grumpy so John counted it as a win.

"Okay, let's sit on the couch and we can start." Mrs Holmes announced. The adult sat down while Sherlock and John laid on their stomachs with their bottom half in the fort. John giggled every time Sherlock's leg brushed his; it tickled.

"Okay, Sherlock," Mrs Holmes bent down by the Christmas tree. "This one's yours." She handed Sherlock a neatly wrapped box, a pretty bow stuck on top.

"Thanks, mummy." Sherlock grinned. He ripped the bow off and handed it to John who smiled gratefully and fixed it into his hair, trying to balance it so it wouldn't fall out.

They went through their presents in good time, squealing in excitement as every gift was revealed. Finally, it was time for John and Sherlock to exchange their gifts to each other. By then, John had already pulled on his bright red socks and Sherlock was clutching his new bee plushie under one arm.

"John, you go first." Sherlock prompted. John nodded and reached into his backpack, pulling out Sherlock's present. He'd wrapped it himself, even after his mum had offered to help. It was a little haphazard, but John was pleased with the end result.

"I hope you like it." John told him as he handed Sherlock the gift, holding his breath as Sherlock unwrapped it quickly, tearing through the paper.

"Oh." Sherlock stared wide-eyed down at the small bundle of thing in his lap. Slowly, he picked them up one by one, admiring every little detail.

"That's a flower crown. It goes on your head." John took it from Sherlock and set it on his curls in demonstration. "So you can have flowers all times of the year. And I got you honey. M-a-n-u-k-a. I read that the bees make a lot of honey and it lasts all winter." Sherlock opened the jar and dipped his finger in, licking the honey off it with a smile.

"Sherlock!" Mrs Holmes tutted, but she didn't seem too upset.

"I also got you these." John pointed to the temporary tattoos. "You put them on with water and stuff and if you're careful, they last a whole week." John smiled. "And these tiny flowers go on your nails. It's really pretty."

"John… I love it!" Sherlock squealed, knocking John over with a big hug. "Thank you so much!"

John smiled. He was so happy that Sherlock liked his gift, it sent tiny little stars bubbling in his chest.

"Now you have to open your gift, John!" Sherlock cried, pushing a bundle of scotch tape and wrapping paper into John's hands. Smiling in thanks, John carefully pulled it apart.

"Wow." In John's hands were packets and packets of fakes slow, little snowflake ornaments, pieces of paper cut out into intricate snowflake designs. There was even a warm, red jumper with little snowflake stitching. "Oh, Sherlock! I love it! Thank you so, so much." John smile felt funny, and his eyes were watery.

"Are you okay, John?" Sherlock asked in concern, tilting his head.

"I'm just really really happy." John explained, his smile growing even larger. "I love you, Sherlock." John hugged him again, nuzzling into Sherlock's hair.

John didn't understand at the time just how significant this moment was, but one day he would be one. One day he'd wake up and realize that John would always bring Sherlock flowers when there were none, and Sherlock would always bring him snowflakes. Because that's the way it was meant to be.

Fin.


End file.
